


A Spectrum of Gray

by bitsori



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Internalized Homophobia, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27063022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitsori/pseuds/bitsori
Summary: When Minho says to Jisung, “This is nothing. I just want to try things out. Think of it as an experiment, if you want,” Jisung wants to believe him.But Jisung doesn’t really know how to answer Minho either. ( AU )
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 18
Kudos: 161
Collections: MINSUNG SEASON: Colourful Autumn 2020





	A Spectrum of Gray

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [MINSUNG SEASON 2020](http://twitter.com/minsungseason), with **BLACK &WHITE** as inspiration.

✻

Minho is a  _ very  _ straightforward person. He doesn’t beat around the bushes; it's not always about the words—not always just about what he says. But when he likes something he likes something and when he doesn’t,  _ you’ll know.  _ This is one of the many reasons why he and Jisung have always gotten along so well, because they’re the same in this regard. With each other, they always know what they’re going to get.

Or so Jisung had always thought when he was younger.

So when Minho says to Jisung, “This is nothing. I just want to try things out. Think of it as an experiment, if you want,” Jisung wants to believe him. Minho has never given him reason  _ not _ to ever take him at face value, but for the first time since they became friends, Jisung can’t.

He doesn’t know how to answer Minho either. He wants to say no, and it’s not like he’s ever had problems refusing Minho anything before—but for some reason, this time, the word gets stuck in his throat. He can’t say yes either—can’t say ‘sure let’s do it,’ because the sensible part of his brain is whispering to him that  _ it’s wrong. _

So he just stares at Minho—just blinks at his friend, tongue-tied, and somehow, partially thanks to a decade-long friendship that has been witness to many a wordless consensus between the two of them, Minho takes that silence to mean yes.

When Minho kisses him, it’s a little tentative, like he’s experimenting,  _ testing— _ trying to learn and figure out something. Jisung grips Minho’s arm and follows suit—he figures he might as well see this through properly.

It’s  _ nothing, _ anyway.

  
  


Two days after they kiss, Minho leaves to go to university in another state, at least 1,200 miles from home – and from Jisung. In the months that follow, he doesn’t mention the kiss, so Jisung follows suit. It’s his junior year in high school, and he has other friends—Seungmin pushes him into joining the yearbook committee with him, and just like that, he has an entire life separate from Minho that he can busy himself with. 

And then the holidays come along, and he shouldn’t have been surprised, really—sure, he and Minho don’t talk as much as he would have wanted to if you asked him a year ago, but they still message each other every so often. Minho hadn’t mentioned coming home, but it isn’t as if he had given Jisung any reason to think that he wouldn’t fly home for the break.

Their families always had Thanksgiving together for as long as they have been neighbors, and as they waited for dinner to be ready, they lay on Minho’s bed together, side by side—shoulder to shoulder as they stared at the ceiling that was adorned with faded glow-in-the-dark stars that were haphazardly stuck onto it when they were still children. Jisung was eight when Minho’s family had moved in next door, and their family had hit it off quickly; a bit expected considering they were the only Korean families living in their block. He had been over, playing with Minho’s toys—all of them brand new and not like the hand-me-downs Jisung used to get from his older brother. Minho’s father had come home with the stars, and he and Minho had helped direct the baseless pattern in which they were placed on the ceiling.

It makes him smile because it’s a good memory and it reminds him of times when he and Minho were just him and Minho, always stuck together and not separated by hundreds of days and thousands of miles.

“So how’s college?” he asks, a part of him wondering if it’s as glamorous as he imagines it to be in his head. It’s going to be his turn to send in university applications soon enough, and he doesn’t really know what to expect past what he sees on movies and TV.

“It’s okay. Some people say the first year is the easiest for Zoology majors like me,” Minho explains with a shrug. “How’s high school these days?”

Jisung snorts. “Same old.”

“You were supposed to say something like—‘bleak without you,’” Minho points out, his stoic expression breaking as he erupts into soft giggles. 

The sound—melodious yet silly all at once brings Jisung back to more memories of his childhood with Minho and it makes  _ him _ giggle, and soon enough the two of them are laughing together, harmonious like they always have been ever since they first met each other.

It truly is never boring when Minho is around, Jisung thinks.

“Hey,” he starts, turning his head so that he can face the older male who immediately does the same, a welcoming smile already curved on his lips. “Can we kiss now?” Jisung asks, bold and confident even though the thumping of his heart against his rib cage is glaringly distracting.

He doesn't know why he asked that—rather, he doesn't know why it was so easy to ask that. It really shouldn't have felt so simple. Then again, if he's going to be honest, he's been wanting to kiss Minho ever since he had opened the door to his home earlier that morning when Jisung had come over to their house with his parents.

It doesn’t mean anything, after all—that was what Minho made clear the last time they kissed; if it means nothing and it feels good, what does Jisung have to lose?

There's a brief moment of silence that has Jisung's confidence faltering—they haven't seen each other in months, so,  _ again _ , why did he think it was a good idea to ask that?

“Okay,” Minho finally answers, and Jisung almost starts laughing all over again. The thing with his and Minho's friendship is this—it doesn't matter if they drift away whenever they don't see each other; what really matters is the easy way they fall in together as soon as they see each other again.

“Okay,” Jisung repeats.

Minho rolls his eyes, and Jisung grins smugly—he isn't sure who moves first, but what's certain is that it doesn't take two counts before their mouths are crashing together. The kiss this time is different from the kiss they shared before Minho left just a few months ago. Jisung wonders if it's because  _ he's _ had a bit more experience since then; a bit more kissing and clumsy fumbling in the dark courtesy of a few girls at a few house parties here and there—and then he realises that it might also be because Minho himself clearly knows a thing or two more than he used to.

Jisung feels his face warming up when he gasps quietly, and Minho is quick to lick into his mouth. His body angles closer to Minho, eager for shared warmth; his hand—his fingers slip past the hem of Minho's t-shirt, dancing along his bared waist and when Minho laughs into the kiss because that's his ticklish spot, Jisung giddily swallows the delicious sound.

“What are we doing?” he asks when they both manage to pull away briefly for air; his voice is hoarse and it surprises even Jisung when he hears himself.

“Nothing,” Minho immediately answers with a slight shake of his head and a pretty smile painted on his spit slick slips.

They continue kissing and giggling, drinking in each other's company until they hear footsteps outside of Minho's bedroom door. They manage to spring apart right as Minho's mother knocks on the door—it's locked, fortunately, which gives them a minute or two to collect themselves even as they're told that dinner is ready.

Minho’s hair is ruffled, and his lips look thoroughly kissed—which only serves to make Jisung want them more even though he shouldn't. He leans in even as he tries to exercise self-control, but Minho moves before he does—planting a chaste peck on Jisung's own lips before pulling away and flashing a cheeky grin.

  
  
  


For the next few days that Minho is home, he and Jisung seek each other out; kisses are freely given, with increasingly naughty hands beginning to wander—pushing their limits every day.

And then Minho is gone again, off to university once more, and life goes on as it always has—life goes back to  _ normal. _

Jisung goes on dates with girls because girls are nice; are fine; are  _ sweet. _ By the second week of December, he makes a commitment to go to the winter formal with a really pretty classmate named Nagyung, whose family goes to the same church as him and his family—life moves quickly when you're in high school, and Jisung has always been the type to go along with the flow, so when she proactively and preemptively asks if Jisung would also go with her to prom in a few months, he says yes.

“I feel like you just got yourself a girlfriend,” Seungmin says when Jisung tells him all about it.

Jisung feels weird about it because it isn't as if they talked about labels  _ or _ exclusivity, but he shrugs because he supposes it's not something worth correcting Seungmin on. He likes Nagyung anyway—she's smaller than him, and has really soft curves in all the right parts, and she's a good kisser so it isn't as if it's a loss on his part.

It's right, and it's normal—and when his church friends congratulate him and clap him on the back because Nagyung is the kind of girl that everyone wants to bring home to their parents, he feels weirdly proud. It could be something if Jisung wants it to be; he knows he  _ should _ want it to be something—even his mother had smiled excitedly when she had expressed that she knew about him and Nagyung because their church congregation is small and news travels faster than lightning among middle-aged Korean women.

“It's  _ nothing,” _ he insists, embarrassed. “We're going to a dance together,  _ umma,”  _ he points out. “We aren't getting married.”

He has to admit that it was nice, though, seeing his mother's proud and happy smile. 

(He doubts learning about Minho will bring her the same kind of smile—so he thinks it’s fortunate that  _ nothing _ is going on with Minho.)

  
  
  


Minho returns home the day before Christmas; as usual, they hadn't talked or messaged much but this time, Jisung is ready for his arrival.

They hang out in Jisung’s room which Minho inspects for an approximate total of five minutes before he throws himself onto Jisung's bed, pulling the younger along with him—straight into his arms. No one asks this time—they simply look at each other, eyes locking before their faces are moving closer towards each other.

They kiss as if they're just picking up from where they left off several weeks ago and neither of them question it. He knows he should probably be thinking about Nagyung because they're technically going out, but he reasons in his head—they aren't really, because it wasn't his decision so much as everyone's plain assumption. Besides, they haven't really talked since the winter formal which she had mostly spent dancing with Hwang Hyunjin, the Homecoming King, while Jisung covered for the DJ who had to back out last minute due to being sick at home with mono, or something similar. He hadn't really paid attention when the dance committee was explaining it to him and begging for his help.

It's hard to keep her in mind anyway; not when Jisung is starting to realise that making out with Minho is better than making out with anyone else he's been with—sure, Minho doesn't have the softness of girls; he's all broad and sharp planes, but Jisung finds that he doesn't mind at all; finds that with Minho, he thinks he's ready to move step after step, as much as either of them will push.

“You're attending Christmas service, right?” he asks later, when they finally stop groping each other because Minho has made plans to go and see his other friends from high school who aren't Jisung. If it were up to him they'd still be making out, but it's not as if he can keep Minho all to himself—they have a few more weeks before Minho has to go again, at least.

“Oh.” Minho shakes his head much to Jisung's surprise. “Some friends of mine from university are gonna be in the area so I'm meeting up with them to show them around.”

Jisung blinks. It's  _ Christmas, _ after all; he knows that even though he and Minho went to all the same Sunday school classes when they were grown up, Minho had long ago put aside faith and religion.

“I don't need religion to believe in a higher being,” is how he had put it to Jisung; he was only 17 then, and Jisung was 15—and it had given Jisung a lot to think about. He isn't sure what his personal conclusion is, but he continues to regularly attend service every Sunday with his parents anyway.

He supposes it should be easier this way; God would be watching more closely in church.

“If you're free after service, I can introduce you to them,” Minho offers with a grin. “I think you'll get along with them well—Changbin' and Chris are great guys, but don't tell either of them I told you that when you meet them.”

  
  
  


Changbin is apparently Minho's roommate at school. He's a year older than Jisung, and a year younger than Minho but he's already in college because—well, apparently he's really smart and he skipped fifth grade.

He's a Film Studies major, which, Jisung has to admit, is pretty cool and interesting especially because he's been considering the same track. He's small—smaller than even Jisung himself, but he's also built much more sturdily. He's loud and funny and he gets a few laughs out of Jisung—and way more than a few from Minho.

Minho teases him a lot, but Changbin takes it all at a good stride; they have a banter that's all their own and it’s interesting to watch.

Chris, on the other hand, is older than both of them, but he’s their resident dorm advisor so he lives down the hall. He’s a Communications major and he grew up in Australia, and a part of Jisung finds his accent fascinating. He seems to prefer taking a step back and entertaining himself with the other two’s antics—behavior in itself that Jisung finds curious. 

Minho is right as usual—Jisung likes both of them just fine. He likes them a lot, actually. But he can also tell, Minho has marked these boys during his time away from Jisung.

And Jisung isn’t sure what he feels about this matter.

_ Nothing, _ he tells himself. He feels nothing because that's all that he can really afford.

  
  
  


“I love you,” Minho says, in such a simple and matter-of-fact manner that it makes Jisung smile despite the sudden nervous thundering in his chest.

It's five minutes before midnight of January 1st; it's just the two of them now, seated on the back porch of Minho's house, watching as Minho's family cat, Pong, plays with a toy that Minho had brought home with him from university.

Jisung doesn't know what brought on Minho's sudden confession, but he would be lying if he says that it doesn't make him feel a whole assortment of emotions. Minho glares at him when he doesn’t say anything back immediately, and he looks so uncharacteristically insecure and yet also  _ very _ characteristically spiteful at the same time that Jisung cracks up.

“You’re my oldest friend Han Jisung, and that means a lot,” Minho continues anyway. “I love you,” he repeats.

"Well, what does it mean?" Jisung prods, careful mostly because of the churning in his stomach.

Minho shrugs. "Something, I guess. I just felt like saying it."

_ Something, _ not nothing, like Minho has repeatedly insisted over the last few months. Not nothing, like Jisung has been furtively holding onto.

Jisung swallows, because the turning in his stomach grows stronger; it's now joined by the sensible part of his brain, stressing that this isn't right—he's into girls, he's into  _ kissing girls, _ not kissing Minho, of all people. Minho, who is his oldest, and most dearest friend—who just happens to be a boy.

A boy, like he is.

‘Nothing’ has always meant that whatever this is between them wasn't anything that Jisung should concern himself with; never mind the fleeting dreams filled with nothing but Minho—if the older male said it was nothing, then that was nothing.

Minho has always been honest with Jisung after all; there was never any reason to question his words.

Jisung is unsure what to do with  _ something. _

“The world isn’t black and white, Jisung,” Minho says, his tone somewhat annoyed, like he can sense Jisung’s inner struggle.

It makes Jisung smile; Minho’s impatience is always a source of amusement.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for it to mean something for me,” he admits in the end; deep in his gut he knows it's too late—it already means something for him, but he isn't ready and that isn't a lie.

He sees Minho’s fists curl up into balls, and then he watches as they slowly relax. Minho takes a deep breath.

“I still kind of want to kiss you,” Minho says, and it’s devoid of all the sharpness there usually is when Minho's guard is on. “Can I?”

Jisung doesn’t say anything, but he knows Minho better than anyone else does, maybe even better than he knows himself—beneath the complex exterior, Minho is pretty simple. He’s the type who always always goes for what he wants.

By now, he really isn’t surprised when Minho kisses him. He simply shuts out his brain, and grips Minho’s arms, like he’s always done before.

_The world isn’t black and white,_ _Jisung._

_fin?_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reaching up to here. I hope you liked the story—feedback is always much appreciated! Feel free to send me questions or generally just scream at me about Minsung and SKZ over at my [CC](http://curiouscat.me/yiminho) Also, do [please check out the rest of the works submitted for this event](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/minsungseason2020). (:


End file.
